


Contentment

by TheTyphonSerpent



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull Reverse Bang 2019, Background mlm wlw and mlnb relationships, Death, Friendship, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Loss, M/M, Marriage, Mourning, internalized shame, listen, listen..., okay, okay?, say it slowly, typhon likes happy endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTyphonSerpent/pseuds/TheTyphonSerpent
Summary: Years after the events of Inquisition and well into his career as a magister, Dorian has made his most proud political victory: marriage equality in Tevinter. Unfortunately it has come a day too late, as Krem arrives to tell Dorian Bull has been lost in the desert. His heart shattered, Dorian is forced to reflect on his regrets with the relationship. It takes friendship, both old and new, to give him a reason to thrive - and a reason to hope.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 15
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Adoribull Reverse Bang 2019! There's art for it too but I won't post it until the end. On that note, this isn't finished! Unfortunately a recent tragedy forced me to put my writing on hold, but I want to post what I have so far because I feel that's more fair to those in the event who were able to finish on time. 
> 
> I guess my one shot is turning into a two shot!
> 
> Also, please remember: Typhon likes happy endings.

A metallic gray chest, dappled with black hair, rising steadily up and down. Bull's breathing was even. No vibrations from snoring or sharp movements from coughing. He was either dozing, lost in thought, or both.

Dorian's hand on his stomach, fingers lazily twined together. The tummy beneath them was soft er than any pillow . His fingers fit perfectly in between Bull's. His face was half buried in the crook of Bull's arm, where  Bull never shaved ... and rarely washed. Dorian didn't mind the smell. Actually, he liked it. Oh, sure in the hissing wastes in an Inquisition tent when they'd spent the past 16 hours working up a sweat fighting wild animals and then topped off the night with a meal of pickled pigs feet and dried onions ... then ...  _then_ he minded Bull's smell enough to kick him out of bed.

Here, he didn't mind. Here, in a roadside inn where he'd bought out every room. Here, where he tipped the innkeeper generously and had a Charger sleeping in every room.  _Here,_ it was a fine smell. It was Bull. He liked everything about Bull. He wanted to study everything about Bull so he could memorize every inch of him. That's why he was staring at his chest. Up, down, up, down. Their fingers weaved together, heat rising from Bull's skin. The smell that radiated from him. His entire self melting into Bull's entire self.

The sex was good. Oh, the sex was  _good_ . But this,  _this_ was  _bliss_ .

Bull turned, coughed, and jostled Dorian out of his trance. They untangled their limbs so that Bull could sit up and heave a few heavy coughs.

Dorian lounged on his side, black hair tousled, a smug expression on his face.

"Do I take your breath away?" Dorian asked.

Bull chuckled, "You wish."

Dorian wrapped the sheet around his  shoulders and made his way to the far table. "You're not getting sick, are you?" He poured a cup of water from the pitcher, careful to keep the sheet over his shoulders.

" _Fuck_ no. I can't afford to be sick. I got a shit job in the Hissing Wastes and I already told the boys it was all hands on deck."

Bull accepted the cup of water when offered, raising it in Dorian's direction before promptly downing it in a few swallows.

" What in Andraste’s name is in the  _Hissing Wastes_ ?  Besides sand and …  " Dorian  took  seat next to him , “No, that’s pretty much it, actually.”

Bull chuckled,  " Well t his guy's paying triple our usual rate and  all I have to do is kill a bunch of wyvern. Win-win.”

"So on your way there from Nevarra you thought you'd make a sharp turn north to cross over the Tevinter border? Are you letting Rocky navigate?"

"I wanted to see you before we left. Isn't that worth a detour?"

Dorian's cheeks darkened, and he pulled the sheet further up on his shoulders.

"I'm gonna be gone for a while on this one. It's gonna take two weeks to get through Orlais, and another week or so to track down this guy, then I don't know long to cull this nest."

Dorian  leaned against him  and heaved a dramatic sigh, "Oh  dear, how shall I manage? I suppose I'll have to cheat on you with Rosy Palm and her five friends. Sorry you had to find out this way."

"I'm sure I'll love you all the same, Kadan."

Dragging the sheet with him, Dorian moved back to the table and paused at the sound of a muffled shout. He pulled back the curtain an inch, peeking just enough to see Krem barreling through the yard at a movement in the foliage.

"Might want to step away from the window." Bull said.

"Vermin." Dorian scoffed, turning back to the pitcher and filling his cup, "Let the  _venerupis_ see us. I'm not ashamed."

"You're not, huh?  T hat why we're renting every room in a tavern in bum fuck nowhere instead of staying your estate?"

Dorian fell silent, staring into the cup of water in his hand. He looked a mess. His cheeks darkened, bags under his eyes, hair  tousled . A shadow fell over his reflection as Bull towered over him, and rested his hands on Dorian's hips.

" Relax , I'm just flipping you shit." Bull said with a wink, "You don't don't  really give a shit about big shows of romance . Hell,  even if I wanted a white gown and a chantry wedding, we can't even  do it  without hopping the border."

"Actually, that might change by the time you return." Dorian said, still staring into his cup, "Maevaris and I are working on a proposal backed by a petition we've been circulating for the past six months or so. We're aiming to legalize same-gender marriage. Not for us, just ... For the people. In general."

"Hey, that's great!"

Dorian watched a big, scar-laden hand take the cup from him and set it aside. Bull hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his head up.

"It's a good thing for you, too." Bull continued, "The more  _normal_ you make this sort of thing, the more likely those  _venerupis_ are to leave you alone. More nights like this for us, wherever you want to spend them."

Dorian huffed a laugh, "Ha! The whole of Tevinter could start waving flags of equality tomorrow and they'd just find something else to gossip about. Frankly, I don't even know why I bother."

Bull gave him a chaste kiss, "Because you love me too much to let  something  like a career come between us."

"You know what I mean."

Bull kept his smug expression, "Because you can't change things unless you stay on the inside. Because our relationship doesn't have to include mushy public displays of affection. Because without your feet planted firmly in the Magesterium, you can't take big steps like legalizing same-gender marriage."

Dorian buried his face in Bull's chest, sighing, "Maker, I don't deserve you."

Bull chuckled and rested his chin atop Dorian's head, "Yes you do. And  anyway, you’re stuck with me ."

"Write me as soon as you're back in Tevinter?"

"I always do."

x - X - x

Months later, Dorian was on the literal edge of his seat while he poured against a mirror and ran a brush along the lining of his eye. It ended in a feathery little wing.

Maevaris was draped lazily behind him, silvery silk robes spilling over the edges of the couch, reading a bundle of papers that had all been cut to fit conveniently in one's hand. Quintus was reading over her shoulder.

Quintus Ferreolius had started as a quiet but confident apprentice, coasting thus far through Tevinter's Circle on nothing but his grades, which  _were_ impressive to  his credit . When he was taken under Maevaris' tutelage, the other magisters had a whisper of a laugh over how he'd trail behind her confident gait like a duckling following a wolf. With enough prodding, he eventually revealed a brilliant brain for words hidden under all that curly black hair. He could write his way into any situation, be it proposals, letters, or public speeches. 

For the occasion, Quintus was wearing long sleeved red robes with a high collar, lined with cotton and an almost-matching pair of yellow gloves. Dorian made a mental note to scold him about that later. He had also cornrowed his hair, although Dorian wasn't sure that was related.

Dorian was starting work on the other eye when Maevaris handed the notes back to Quintus. "It's a good speech." She concluded, "What do you think?"

"I'd leave out the part about 'I know how many of you have been wanting this'. It might come across as  presumptuous. " Quintus replied as he set the notes on the vanity in front of Dorian.

"How else am I supposed to give a nod to everyone who will be rushing to the chantry with their partners tomorrow morning?"

Quintus grinned, exhaling a puff of restrained laughter, "You don't have to, you do that by existing."

Swiveling in his chair, Dorian brandished the makeup brush like a tiny but threatening sword, " _Shrewd_ , Quintus. You'll fit in yet."

Quintus beamed, and Dorian pushed himself away from the balcony and gave a twirl, allowing his deep purple robes to wave dashingly around him, "Am I presentable?"

"You look like a peacock in spring." Maevaris said.

" _Excellent._ That was exactly my goal."

A knock at the door summoned Dorian away, and he was greeted with the sight of a fully armored and not-too-clean Krem. Immediately, Dorian’ s face lit up ,  to appear smug  as he set a hand on his hip and cocked his head to one side, "Let me guess. Bull is at the bar?"

"Not exactly." Krem looked directly at Dorian, their eyes meeting, "Is this a bad time?"

"Oh, I always have time for you. Come in. Have a seat."

Dorian swept back into the dressing room, and Krem made it three steps in before his eyes fell on Maevaris and then Quintus.

"Perhaps this is a bad time." He said.

"Nonsense! They don't bite. Krem, this is Magister Maevaris Tilani and her apprentice, Quintus Ferreolius. Mae, Quintus, this is Cremisius Acclasi, First Lieutenant of the Bull's Chargers."

Maevaris sat up and held out a hand, "Oh, of course. Dorian's mentioned you."

Krem  gave a polite bow and pecked her hand , "Charmed, Miss Tilani." and then  he  immediately turned back to Dorian, "I really do think I should wait until you don't have company. It's important that I speak to you alone."

Dorian sighed, "Is it about Bull?"

"Yes."

Quintus cleared his throat, "If it helps, Magister Tilani and I can make sure the carriage is ready, and I'll fetch you when it's pulled around."

" Very well, I’ll be down in a moment ." Dorian replied.

Quintus left first, and Maevaris brushed past Dorian on her way out, clasping a hand on his shoulder. "Relax." She said with a wink, "You're going to do fine."

Dorian watched them leave, and took a deep breath as per Maevaris' advice.

"Alright." He breathed, "We're alone. What's the matter?"

"You may want to sit down."

"I'm already a mess of nerves over this speech, if I sit down I might pass out when I try to stand again."

Krem heaved a sigh, "Alright ... Bull told you we were hunting wyvern in the Hissing Wastes. Trying to clear out an excavation site and the path leading to it. We get deep into the desert and we're navigating by stars by the time we get to the wyvern's nest. It's  _big_ . Bigger than we expected. There were a  _lot_ of wyverns."

Dorian's face gradually fell. He could feel his heart hammering as the air between the two men grew thicker.

Krem continued, "Dalish was pouring over Skinner, and Rocky and Grim made a good team up until one of the big ones showed up. Must have been the mother or something. She had her eyes set on Grim and before I knew what was happening Bull comes up under her and starts swinging. She grabbed him in her claws and  bolted . I went after her, but there was a cliff there. She was gliding away so fast and the wind was whipping up and nearly tossed me off the edge right there. All our men were still fighting and our Chief was out of the battle. I called the retreat."

Krem took a deep, shuddering breath. His eyes were shimmering, "We wanted to send a search party right out but so many of us were hurt, and a dust storm whipped up that same night. It was another day before we got out. That was almost three months ago."

Dorian wasn't in this room anymore. He was back in the inn on the Tevinter border and curled up on Bull's broken bed in Skyhold and nestled under his arm at an Inquisition camp. He was far from here and close to Bull except Bull wasn't  _here_ and he couldn't be near Bull. He didn't want to be here. 

He could barely hear Krem's voice.

"I'm sorry." Krem wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, "We scoured the desert for weeks, none of us wanted to leave, but we were down to eating our horses. I had to make a decision. The first place I came was here."

Dorian couldn't see Krem.

"Dorian ... I'm sorry."

He couldn't breathe.

He swayed and collapsed to his knees right as there was a knock at the door.

"Dorian?" Quintus' voice said, "The carriage is ready."

"Dorian?" Someone else said.

"Dorian?"

He could hear the blood rushing in his head, like standing at the base of waterfall. Rushing. Rushing. All around him. Drowning. Can't breathe.

"DORIAN!" Krem shouted.

He snapped his neck up, eyes wide, his gaze darting between Krem and Quintus. They were both kneeling in front of him.

"Right." He said, nodding at Quintus, "The carriage."

His hands were shaking, but he pulled himself up by the arm of the couch. Once both feet were firmly on the ground, he stumbled, and was caught by Quintus' quick arms.

"I'm sorry, Krem," He tried breathing deeply and talking at the same time, and came across more as a sigh, "I appreciate you coming to me with this, but I have a speech to deliver.  We’ll  have to talk about  this  later."

Focus. That's all that was going to get him through this, he decided. Focus, and move forward.

He straightened, and walked to the door.

"I don't think you're in any shape to give a speech." Krem said.

Dorian kept walking.

If Krem followed him, he never knew. He kept his chin up, his shoulders back, and walked like a lion leaving his den. Maevaris was waiting in the carriage. Quintus entered after him.

The carriage lurched into motion, not unlike the one that had carried them to Winter Palace when he and Bull had accompanied Inquisitor Lavellan to the Empress' ball. Bull had been a surprisingly fine dancer that night. He hadn't danced with him nearly as much as he should have. Now there wouldn't be another chance.

"Dorian?"

Maevaris' voice snapped him out of his trance. She looked concerned.

"Are you alright?" She asked, "Your eyes are glazed over."

"Oh that won't do, will it?" He said, barely disguising a hitch in his voice as a laugh, "I'll ruin my makeup."

Deep breaths. Deeeeep breaths. Don't cry. Look out the window.

At the base of the chantry steps, guards formed a line between two groups. Right down the middle,  separating two crowds equally rowdy and riled. Activity erupted as the carriage moved around the square. People were pushed back by guards that were walking alongside the carriage. A man spat in a guard's face.

People were shouting. Dorian closed his eyes and tried to make out what they were saying.

"Degenerate!"

"Don't touch me!"

"Is that him?"

"Faggot!"

He closed his eyes, and went over his speech in his head. As the carriage lurched to a stop,  a sharpened arrow of adrenaline shot through his heart , and he patted his robe pockets.

He looked to Maevaris with absolute horror in his eyes, and said, "I forgot my notes."

The door opened, and the roar of the crowd could be heard in full force, and Dorian heard every insult and slur and cheer all at once. A wave of absolute dread washed over him as the full gravity of his  situation finally revealed itself.

Dorian stood, and immediately passed out.

\- x - X - x -

The next thing Dorian was aware of was something soft beneath him. He was on his back, and opening his eyes revealed the familiar canopy above his bed. Red velvet above with lace curtains in different shades of red and pink that usually draped all around him when he slept. The curtains were tied up right now.

He tried to sit up, and felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey," Said Krem, "Take it easy."

He'd seen Krem out of armor precious few times. Plate was a bitch to take off, and a bitch and a half to put back on, or at least that's what Bull said. He suspected the real reason also had something to do with why Krem slept on top of his sword.

This time, though, Krem was in a green sweater with half sleeves that stopped before his rock hard forearms and made no secret of his biceps either. He looked smaller without shoulder and chest plates but no less intimidating. He had moved Dorian's desk chair to the bed.

Dorian pushed himself into a sitting position. He was still in his dress robes.

"You fainted." Krem went on, "Maevaris ordered a platoon of doctors and after about eight dozen spells they ruled out poison or magic. Must’ve been nerves."

Dorian rubbed his eyes, "Speech?"

"Maevaris stood in your place for the speech, don't worry."

Dorian heaved a sigh, and flopped back on the bed. Great. The defining moment of his career and someone else was the face of it. All because he couldn't keep his fucking act together. Fuck.

"I'm sorry." Krem continued, "If I'd known I would have waited until after to tell you. I just wanted to get the news to you as fast as I could. You deserved to be the first to know."

"It's not your fault."  _It's mine._

"I know, but ... still." Krem trailed off.

Though they were both at a loss for what to say, there was a strange sense of comfort surrounding how awkward the both of them felt.

Several long, agonizing seconds passed before Krem stood and gathered Dorian into his arms, hugging as tight as he could. A shudder wracked Dorian's body as he allowed all of his muscles to melt and tears streamed down his face. He could tell by the prick of moisture on his shoulder that Krem was crying too, though Dorian was the only one audibly sobbing.

_It's my fault. It's my fault. It's my fault._

"I know." Krem whispered.

_You don't know half of it._

They parted only once Dorian's sobs tapered off into hiccups. Krem pulled away, resting his forehead against Dorian's. "Can I get you anything?" Krem asked.

"I'd really just ... like to be left alone right now."

"Are you sure?"

"Please. I don't like being seen like this."

He'd meant it as a joke. He even tried smiling. But Krem looked skeptical, even as he pulled away and straightened up.

Dorian heaved a sigh, "Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"I sent the Chargers on paid leave. They're all mourning in their own way. Dalish and Rocky are probably wreaking havoc on an inn somewhere so I thought I'd track them down and see if there were any rooms free."

"You can stay here, if you'd like. Did you meet Faustus?"

"The serving man?"

"He's a butler. His name is Faustus. And I pay him. He can show you to one of the guest bedrooms."

Dorian stared into space, head bowed, and listened for the door to close before he curled back up in bed and cried himself to sleep.

x - X - x

It was dark in his room.

He hadn't bothered lighting any candles since he got here. He hadn't left, either. At least twice now, Krem had knocked on the door and called out his name, and Dorian had stayed quiet until the knocking stopped. Faustus carried plates of food in and out, though he hadn't bothered keeping track of how many had come and gone.

He woke up, unsure of what time it was. The curtains were drawn, his eyes and mouth were sticky and his head swam with a combination of grogginess and dehydration. He turned his head to see the tray he'd left the night before was replaced. A pitcher of water and a glass, a bowl of fruit, and a serving of toast. There was something in another bowl, too, but he didn't feel much like investigating.

He was still wearing the purple robes, though they were wrinkled and currently clung to his skin in the worst of ways.

He sat up, not because he felt like it, but because a body in bed tended to grow stiff, and stretching his limbs was preferable to aching muscles. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked an orange and started peeling it. The way his stomach felt, he may as well have been holding a rock. The thought of eating ...

He felt the tears streaming down his cheeks before he even realized he was crying. Squeezing his eyes shut, he choked and sobbed and  dropped the orange on the carpet .

"Maker ..." He muttered, clenching his teeth, "Why does an orange set you off, you old fool? I don't even think I ever saw him eat an orange."

There was a polite knock at the door, and a familiar voice cleared his throat, "Mister Pavus? I have some mail."

"I don't want it."

"I'll leave it by the door, then."

Dorian scrambled to his feet, and ran to the door in time to see the back of his butler's head as he walked down the hallway. "Faustus, wait!" He called.

Faustus turned on a heel and approached. If he cared about Dorian's appearance, he said nothing. Of course, the old elf had been with the Pavus family for decades before Dorian elected to start paying him. He'd seen a teenage Dorian roll out of bed hung over and blue balled.

Faustus had aged better than any human in Dorian's family, adding only a few crows feet and wrinkles between Dorian's childhood and now. Silver streaks only showed when he pulled his hair back into a bun.

Dorian rubbed his temples and tried to remember what he'd called him over here for, but maker, it was hard to think with such a headache. Crying had sapped so much energy. Finally, he asked, "What time is it?"

"It's two hours past noon, sir."

"Of course it is." He sighed, "Can you bring me some earl gray tea?"

"At once, sir."

As he stepped back inside, Dorian felt something cling to his sole. He looked down to see his own name in Maevaris' curly handwriting, peeking out from under his foot. There was a small pile of letters underneath him.

He'd grown familiar with the dull ache in his chest, and as he stared at the letters, he took a moment to wonder if it was caused by his ongoing grieving or his nerves over the sight of his mail. After a minute or so, he decided that it wasn't very productive to leave them there to slip on, so he gathered them into a little pile and brought them to his bed.

Maevaris' letter was postmarked the same day he was supposed to have given his victorious speech  regarding the Imperium's decision on marital rights.  _I don't want to read this._

The next letter was from Vettorio Da Albixiss, a higher noble and owner of several plantations bordering the northern edges of Minrathos. His seal bore a sprig of wheat laid over a sickle. The paper tore when he broke it.

_Magister Pavus,_

_I am unsure of what illness has befallen you that caused you to miss our meeting yesterday. I understand if you are too ill to meet me, but I feel as though you could have afforded me some communication. This is highly unprofessional_

He tossed the letter into the pile without reading the rest, gathered up the whole stack, and brought it to his desk across the room where he promptly dropped them all and stormed back to bed.

Faustus entered silently and placed the tray on Dorian's night stand. The soft, leafy smell of the tea roused him enough to sit up again.

"May I take your robes to the washroom, Sir?" Faustus asked with a slight bow.

Dorian poured himself a cup of tea, brought it to his lips, and cocked his eyebrow over the cup. "You know, it  _is_ a step up from 'master', but you don't have to address me as 'Sir' in every sentence, either." He said before taking a large swallow and burning the roof of his mouth. He wheezed a puff of air, tears building at his eyes. 

Sighing, he did it again.

"My apologies, S...Dorian. I’m an old dog learning new tricks."

This time, Dorian pulled away with a tear streaming down his cheek, forehead sweating and his mouth and tongue raw. It was now that he finally started to notice how grimy his skin felt.

"Would you mind if I undressed?" Dorian asked as he stood.

"I diapered your bottom, I've already seen you naked."

Dorian wanted to laugh, but couldn't find it in him to do so. He stripped in silence and handed his clothes to Faustus before retrieving a robe.

"Could I bother you to draw me a bath?"

"Of course." Faustus replied, and left.

Another cup of tea later, Dorian was in the master bathroom, soaking with his head laid back against the lip of the tub. His whole mouth was raw, and he ran his tongue over the inside so he could feel the pain a bit more. Like poking at a bruise. It helped him focus. Perhaps his kinks for pain and torment had its roots here.

Bull ... Bull loved that about him. Actually Bull wasn't the biggest fan of Dorian burning himself with tea, he thought it was a little foolish. But Bull wasn't here to say, "Hey if you want to feel pain I can take out the clamps again." 

_I'm never going to find someone who's into that like he was. If it got out I'd be treated like a freak._

He dunked his head under the water.

When he opened his eyes, he could see his hair floating about him in wispy tendrils. He noted how much longer it had gotten. He'd stopped cutting it a year ago and now he had to pull it into a ponytail most days. It was reaching for the ceiling, where a tiled mosaic of flowers turned into a blue and black blur under the water.

He closed his eyes.

The water enveloped him not unlike Bull could, completely  submerging his body in warmth. He tried to imagine he was in Bulls arms. His mind played back the gentle rumble of his chest, the occasional cough or snort. His laugh, oh  _maker_ he had a hearty laugh.

But he had to come up for air.

He shot up, gasping, water dripping from his soaked mop of hair. Idle sounds of his sleeping lover were no longer playing, and instead were replaced with muffled voices.

Faustus was in his room, changing his sheets and tidying most likely, and Krem's voice was with his, a bit further away. Dorian squeezed the water out of his hair while he listened.

"Has he ever been this bad before?" Krem asked.

"When his grandmother passed away, he locked himself in his room and cried for days. Of course, he was twelve then."

"How'd he manage to pull out of it?"

"His father threatened to beat him if he didn't return to his studies."

"Well... we can't use that route then, can we?"

_I can hear you._

Krem continued, "Did he say anything to you?"

"He asked me for some tea, and I complied."

_Don't talk about me like I'm not here._

"He's eating then?"

"Looks like he peeled an orange, so ... probably?"

Dorian made a loud show of how much noise he could make getting out of the tub, water splashing over the edges. He stomped to where is towel hung by the wall and snapped it before drying himself and tying it around his waist.

He opened the door to an empty room, stomped to the hall door, and locked it.

Falling into his desk chair, Dorian sighed and leaned back. The wood felt cool against his back. His fingers traced the lines of wood on his desk. It still smelled lightly of the cologne he'd bathed in as a teenager.

The letters were where he'd left them, though they'd been gathered into a neat little pile. The one on top appeared blank.

He turned it over, finding his own name and address scrawled on the front, then turned it over again, finding no official seal nor family crest on the back. The flap was tucked in on itself and sealed lightly with a dab of candle wax. It was nothing like the others.

He tore the side to open it, and found a handwritten letter on common brown paper.

_Magister Pavus,_

_My deepest thanks, and sincerest congratulations, on your victory in marriage equality. I cried tears of joy when I heard I would be able to wed in my own country. My fiance and I can't thank you enough._

_I wish I could have told you this in person. I'm not sure why you couldn't deliver your speech, or if you even would have spoken to me, but I wanted to thank you, and I hope you have not fallen ill._

_You're something of a hero to my family. It's been a long time since we've had someone in the Magesterium who speaks for us. I know you can't be as open as we are with our love, but those of us who feel the difference know you're on our side._

_Thank you._

_Yours truly,_

_Jana Crivelli_

The chair creaked when Dorian leaned back, his eyes wide, his heart ... somewhere. Somewhere other than the gutter, which was an improvement. His fingers graced the return address at the bottom of the page. The Crivelli family might not be of any major noble breeding, but it seemed Jana knew how to properly address a letter, which was good.

He knew what he had to do.

He fished through his desk and found a quill, an ink pot, and a sheet of paper.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been some minor editing to the previous chapter, mostly dialog and description fixes. It won't effect your understanding of the story in any way but if you want to go back and read it you might find it flows a little better!
> 
> The art you see is by the AMAZING badpriestessofbuttsburgh on tumblr. Also please remember that Norangutan here on ao3 wrote another story inspired by this art, so if you liked this you should check out that, and you can reblog the master post with BOTH fics right here:  
> https://jesusbuchananbarnes.tumblr.com/post/190348868740/
> 
> My many thanks for the opportunity to be in this event, and for everyone's patience while I took extra time to finish this story. Please remember to comment, it warms my little heart. <3

Two days later Dorian had managed to reply to most of his letters, or at least all of the ones he wanted to. He was wearing fresh bath robes and was very slowly picking at some eggs and toast when Krem joined him in the dining room.

It was strange seeing Krem without his armor again, dressed only in a grey long sleeved shirt with a loose neck that draped around his shoulders and a pair of brown drawstring trousers. Krem put his hands on his hips and grinned.

"Sparkler! About time you showed your face. How are you holding up?"

Dorian shrugged. There wasn't a good answer to that question. If he was being honest...

"Poorly." Dorian concluded.

"Yeah, I figured." Krem helped himself to the chair across from him, "I know everyone mourns in their own way and I'm not gonna tell you what to do, but you had me scared for a while there. You know we're here for you, right? We all lost Bull."

Dorian cocked an eyebrow, "We?" He echoed.

Krem held up his hands defensively while laughing, "I know what you're thinking, and it's still just me staying here. But Rocky and Dalish keep asking about you, and Skinner just got back into town yesterday so she's worried too. We all are. That's all I meant."

Dorian shrugged, "To tell you the truth, some company might do me some good. If they want a place to stay, there's room enough here."

"I'll pass on the word."

Faustus walked in silently, carrying a silver tray with a small stack of letters. The daily mail. He set it next to Dorian's plate.

"Thank you, Faustus." Dorian said, "Care to join us?"

"Pull up a chair, Fausty, I'll whip up something for us all to eat." Krem added, slapping the seat of the chair next to him.

Faustus covered his mouth against a quiet laugh, "I don't think Lena would appreciate the help."

Dorian was flipping through the letters while he added, "He's not lying. The estate cook has only used freedom and wages to grow even  _more_ territorial."

Dorian flipped through the letters and stopped when he found one without a crest or seal, though he noted the wax was a different color this time. White instead of dark blue. His hands shook while he tore it open.

"Everything alright?" Krem asked.

"It's ... this woman, Jana. She sent me a thank you letter and I replied on a whim. I honestly wasn't expecting a response."

"Oh?" Krem rested his elbows on the table, leaning in, "What's she like? Is she cute?"

Dorian scoffed a laugh, "She's engaged, you horn dog. Besides, I don't know what she looks like. I couldn't even wager a guess. If the Crivelli family is nobility, I've never heard of them."

"I have. Crivelli Candles. They ran a market stall in the lower west side of town back when I was a kid. I think the woman's name was Felicity. Probably related."

Dorian hummed. That was news. Perhaps even good news. It meant he could make up for having missed her before. Action spoke louder than words, after all.

"Can you remember where?"

"If they're still there, sure."

Dorian finished breakfast faster than he had in days, and left within the hour. He didn't want to stand out as a Magister, he decided. He dug through his wardrobe until he found the outfit he used to wear when he was with the Inquisition. The tan jacket with one sleeve and all the buckles, the matching pants, all fit just like they had before. He ran a comb through his hair and even bothered with a light brush of kohl on each eyelid.

Krem put his armor back on.

"Do you always dress like you're planning to thwart off bandits?" Dorian asked as they stepped out of the manor and made their way down the worn pathway that led through the acre long front lawn.

"Always? No. Only when I'm in Tevinter."

Walking through Minrathos, it was hard not to draw attention to themselves. Despite his attempts at casual wear, Dorian's face was recognizable enough to draw a few eyes and whispers. He had his staff as well, which tended to be a status symbol in and of itself.

The lower side was named after the class of people that tended to gather there. In his youth Dorian would escape there in occasional search of an opium lounge or a bartender that didn't ask questions. Here and there he recognized a house with boarded windows or an especially shabby paint job, which he would have used as a landmark before.

Four streets and two alleys joined into a central circle where people had set up a half dozen stands, two carts, and a few blankets. Some of the blankets had merchandise spread on them, a few more held people lounging or napping, and one held a man sitting cross-legged with three coconut shells lined up in front of him. Krem stopped at the edge of it all.

"Maker, I haven't been here in ages." He sighed, squinting and scanning the area. After a moment, he pointed at a stall with a faded red cover, "There."

Candles of varying colors and sizes were laid out in wood boxes on the table. Dorian approached and was immediately greeted by a variety of scents, honey being the most prominent. He picked up a purple pillar candle and smelled it, finding hints of beeswax and lavender.

"Maker's breath." The woman behind the table breathed, and he looked up from the candle to see her. Red curly hair fell in tumbles over a simple yellow cotton dress. She wore an apron that might have been white at some point, but there were splatters and streaks of wax all over it. Freckles dotted every inch of her body from head to toe.

"How much for this candle?" Dorian asked.

"Dorian? Dorian Pavus?"

"Don't tell the whole town. Just tell me how much the candle is."

She stammered, "U-usually it's 25 coppers for those. Sounds pricey, but I infuse the wax with oil so it's more than just a source of light, it is. Makes your whole house smell like lavender or your money back. W-well maybe not  _your_ house, but a smaller house. B-but for  _you_ , m'lord-"

Dorian pushed a silver piece into her hand before she could finish talking, "Keep the change."

An elf woman with trousers that were torn at the knees and a green blouse with a low-cut neckline approached, setting an empty crate behind the table, "I brought Alaric his shipment and I told him if he tried to stiff us again, I'd-" The elf woman stopped, following Jana's wide-eyed gaze to Dorian, then adapting her own expression of shock, "Andrastes tits, you're Dorian Pavus."

"Varira?" Krem chimed in behind Dorian.

"Cremisius!" The elf in question squealed, and ran out from behind the stand to tackle Krem in the tightest hug she could despite his armor in the way, "Oh, Maker, it's been a dragon's age since I saw you last! I thought you died!"

"Came close a few times."

Jana was still awestruck, her jaw agape. Dorian continued, "I take it this is the soon-to-be Mrs. Crivelli? Congratulations."

Jana finally closed her mouth, blinked, and cleared her throat, "Yes. I mean-thank you. Thank you  _so much_ , ser. Would you ... would you like me to wrap that up for you?" She nodded at the candle in his hand.

Dorian passed the candle to her and she wrapped in brown paper and tied it off with twine. He was only half listening to what Varira and Krem were saying. His hand rested on hers when she handed the package back to him.

"I thought it terrible rude of me, to miss the opportunity to meet you in person, Ms. Crivelli. So found it only fair to make up for my lack of manners. Personally."

Varira spoke up, and Dorian turned to find Krem in a half-hearted headlock, with Varira grinding her knuckles into his head, "Jana! Did you know this little bastard went and joined the Inquisition?  _The_ Inquisition!"

"Is that how you two know each other?" Jana asked, glancing at Krem and then back to Dorian.

"Oh it's a long and dreadful story, dear. How much time do you have?" Dorian replied.

Jana blushed a deep shade of pink, filling in the spaces between her freckles on her cheeks, "Maker, I've never had my stand visited by a Magister before. I didn't even think you'd write me back."

"Just pretend I'm a customer making small talk. I did just buy a candle after all." He gestured to the package in his hand.

"Don't let him fool you." Krem now had his arm around Varira's shoulder, and both them had hair sticking out at odd angles, "He acts all high class but I've seen him pound five shots and then do a dance with ten silk scarves."

Jana covered her mouth and giggled.

"Tell you what," Dorian continued, "You name a tavern and I'll show you how easy it is to know a Magister once he’s both had a few drinks."

"I don't think any taverns I know would be up to your standards."

" _Try me._ "

"This evening, then. The Bannered Mare's just around the corner. I'll meet you there after I close up the stall."

Dorian bowed and kissed the back of her hand, "I look forward to it."

Krem and Dorian split with the agreement to meet at the bar that evening. When the sun set and cast bright sparkles off the brass roofs and glass windows of Minrathos, and the city was bathed in orange light, Dorian found the bar marked with a carved horse bust mounted over the door.

He paused outside, straining to remember the last time he'd been to a bar. High class restaurants filled with nobles didn't count. No, it had to be a proper bar with working class people who were too busy staring at their mugs to gossip or eavesdrop.

It had to have been at the  Exalted Counsel. The bar there wasn't exactly  _working class_ , but the servants from the Winter Palace were in attendance, and with his friends it had been infinitely more bearable. There, with Sera, and Vivienne, and ... Bull ...

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  _No. Don't think about that. Just have fun_ .

He opened the door, and saw Quintus.

Quintus was out of his apprentice robes, and not in his dress robes either. He was wearing a simple cotton tunic dyed dark green, with tan trousers. He had his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a person with short hair and a wide smile who was laughing at something the man across from them had said. Quintus raised his mug in Dorian's direction.

"Dorian!" He called, "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you." Dorian stepped up to the round table where Quintus was seated. The man across from him looked up.

"I live right down the street." Quintus replied with a shrug, "Being a student is fun but it doesn't pay very well. I can't live in a house like yours. Have a seat!"

He nodded at an empty seat, and Dorian shook his head, "I'm actually waiting for someone."

"Waiting for someone?  _Here_ ?"

He sighed, rolled his eyes, and threw his hands up in mock dramatization, "I stopped caring about the Venerupis the second I passed out in front of a crowd of thousands. My pride as a politician can't be dragged any further down."

"I'm sorry," The man across from Quintus said with a cocked eyebrow, "He's worried molluscs?"

"No, no," Quintus shook his head, "Venerupis is what we call people hired to eavesdrop and gather rumors."

"Oh you won't find any of those here." The man turned back to Dorian with a confident smirk, "Anybody tries to mess with you, we'll kick their ass."

Quintus laughed. He gestured to the man, and then the person by his side, "Dorian, this is my friend Titus, and my partner, Achaea."

Achaea stood and shook Dorians hand, "Quintus tells me all about you. It's so nice to meet you. Who are you waiting for?"

"Jana Crivelli. The woman who sells candles."

"Oh yeah I know her!" They replied, sitting down, "Aren't she and Varira just the cutest? You know, Varira works on the bee farm that Jana buys her wax and honey from. That's how they met."

A tap on his shoulder made Dorian turn to meet Jana, Varira hanging off her arm and Krem just behind them.

"I see you made some friends!" Jana chimed, helping herself to a seat at the table.

"You didn't tell me you knew Dorian too, Jana." Achaea said with a slight whine in their voice.

"We only just met." Jana replied with a laugh.

Krem grabbed two chairs from an empty table and moved them so he and Dorian could sit with the others.

It wasn't unlike an evening at the Herald's Rest. A server appeared in seconds with a tray of mugs and served everyone at the table in turn. Not everyone knew each other, but everyone knew someone who knew someone else. Half the table was already splitting off into their own conversation.

"Small world, isn't it?" Dorian said.

Quintus shrugged, "You'd be hard pressed not to find some sense of comradere with people like us. We have to stick together, you know?"

"'People like us'?" Dorian echoed.

Varira interrupted his thoughts, "Oh shit, Dorian, Krem told me about your boyfriend. I'm so sorry."

Dorian pressed his lips into a thin line, staring into his mug. Should he be drinking so close to the date of Bull's death? Was this disrespectful in some way?

"Yes ..." He muttered, only because he felt like he should respond before the silence began to drag. He looked around the room for anything to distract himself. The bar was behind Achaea's shoulder. Two gentlemen were talking over beers. One set his hand on the other's thigh. His eyes were in an absolute trance while he watched the other one talk on and on.

Dorian blinked in and out of focus. He recognized that look. So many nights at an inn in the middle of nowhere, he'd worn the same face while he stayed up staring at Bull. He could feel the warmth between them, the flutter in his chest. He was entranced by the fact that the most beautiful creature in the whole world was right in front of him, and he got the privilege of touching him.

He looked for another table, where he found another two men, and two women, but they weren't split the way they were at the salons in Orlais or the Magesterium parties. The men finished each other's sentences. The women sat flush against one another.

He looked back to Varira, who was holding Jana's hand under the table, and his mind finally fully processed what she'd said to him.

"Did you call him my boyfriend?" He asked.

"That's what Krem called him. Sorry, did he prefer something else?"

"No it's ... it's not that."

He realized his eyes were wide, and also that he'd risen a half inch off his seat. He could hear Bull telling him to let go of all that tension. He let himself sink back down.

Jana nudged her hand out of Varira's and raised her mug. "Hey, let's do a toast to Dorian Pavus. Things are getting a lot better here thanks to you."

The rest of the table raised their mugs. Jana, Varira, Krem, Titus, Quintus, Achaea, and Dorian was last, barely believing what he was a part of.

"TO DORIAN!" The table called, and Dorian slammed back the beer like he used to at the Herald's rest. When he slammed the empty tankard onto the table, Krem slapped his back, and Titus shouted an incoherent approval.

It was the most fun he'd had in weeks. Possibly months.

He went home a few beers later, accompanied by Krem and escorted by Quintus, who insisted as such purely for the sake of extra security. He had mostly sobered up by the time they reached his front gate, and he bid Quintus goodbye with the promise to see him at a meeting soon.

He walked in to a cacophony of noise. Conversation buzzed from the dining room as though the bar had followed him here.

And there the  C hargers were, welcoming him and Krem with raised mugs and shouts  much like  the toast he'd shared with his new friends. Dalish jumped up and hugged him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Skinner slugged his shoulder. Rocky shoveled a fork full of potatoes into his mouth. Stitches was striking up a conversation with Faustus. Grim was as silent as ever.

He sat down with company for the second time that night, and ate a full meal of roast and potatoes for the first time in days. He didn't say much, but he didn't feel he had to, and nobody pressured him to speak or confide.

When he went to bed, he set the candle he'd bought on the bedside table, and lit it with flames that rolled of his fingertip. Jana hadn't lied. In a few minutes, the whole room smelled like lavender.

He sat on the edge of the bed in his pajamas, and watched the candle flame burn, strong and proud. He could hear Krem shout something, and could swear he heard Skinner's name.

The flame flickered and danced, but it didn't go out. It was going to be alright.

Everything was going to be alright.

x - X - x

Jana and Varira had a beautiful wedding.

It wasn't gaudy or expensive. There weren't many flowers. Jana had a small bouquet, and provided her own candles for the altar, which were pink and white and made the chantry smell of roses.

There was no reception - until Dorian found out that there was no reception - and then Dorian  _insisted_ that he host the reception. The Pavus estate had a courtyard that hadn't seen much use in recent years, and it added an extra layer of amusement knowing that the first party he'd host there since he took his seat in the Magesterium would be one where the other Magisters weren't invited.

They set out a big long table at the front, with round tables throughout the yard, and chairs everywhere. They had fires burning in glass bowls in between the flower beds, in which they'd also tossed herbs so that the whole place would smell of rich spices. Jana and Varira had seats at the head of it all, in their white dresses and flower crowns, under a canopy of white and pink cloth that ran in long strips over the rest of the crowd.

A few friends sat beside them, and Dorian was there only because they'd insisted as such. He was the closest thing to a groomsman they had, after all. When Faustus was finished pouring the wine, he took a seat next to Stitches at one of the smaller tables. Quintus was there, in a suit and matching gloves, an arm draped over his partner's shoulders.

Dorian tapped the side of his glass to draw the crowd's attention to him. He stood, clearing his throat, and took a satisfying look at the crowd that was before him. He'd never felt so at home in his own home. Here, there was nobody to judge or sell secrets. Here, he was finally content.

And that's when he saw him.

His hair was long and so was his beard. He was skinny and bedraggled and his horns were dry and flaky. He looked as though he hadn't groomed in weeks, but he was  _there_ and he was  _alive_ . The glass in Dorian's hand shattered when he dropped it and he was already vaulting over the table before the wine began to spill on the ground. The whole crowd was watched him race to the back of the yard and throw himself into The Iron Bull's arms. 

"Hey." Bull said, as though he wasn't holding a sobbing mess in his arms while a wedding party watched.

Dorian choked. He reached for words and found only more tears, more relief, and the overwhelming urge to kiss Bull which he gave into as soon as he set his hand on the back of Bulls neck and pulled him down so their lips could meet.

"Feeling bold today? You know we're in public, right?" Bull said with a smile.

Dorian's hand lingered on Bull's cheek. He couldn't stop smiling. Tears still streamed down his cheeks. He couldn't think of anything to say. The crowd didn't care, and neither did he. Bull brushed the tears away with his thumb.

"If you ever ...  _ever_ scare me like that again ..." Dorian choked.

"Ah, come on. You know me. Since when can one wyvern take me down?"

He hit Bull in the chest, and said with a choke, "You son of a bitch."

Bull ran his hand up and down Dorian's back while Dorian buried his face into Bull's chest. Bull waved at the crowd, "Hey. Sorry to crash the party. I heard noise back here."

"Fuck me upside down, Chief!" Krem shouted, and instantly the Chargers were crowding them.

Eventually the rest of the guests went about their conversations, the interruption fading to a background buzz of excitement and relief. In the middle of it all, Dorian had never been more eager to touch and hug Bull, without shame or restriction. It didn't matter anymore. Everything was going to be alright

Everything was going to be alright.


End file.
